Secrets and Metamorphosis
by rianess
Summary: Ten/Martha romance. Martha has a secret, but Martha has left the Doctor after LOTL without telling him her secret. How long can she keep it hidden, how long before he will know the truth? And if he does find out, what then? Currently a one shot.


**Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction story and not written for any financial gain of any kind. All rights to Doctor Who and any associated material belong to the BBC and any other affiliated entities. Thanks.**

* * *

**Secrets and Metamorphosis**

**_by Rianess_  
**

* * *

_"You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel."_

* * *

**_Martha_**

"I'll see you again Mister!"

She said with a smile that felt utterly false. Once the door had closed behind her, she took a deep breath, sure of her decision. Her hand fluttered to her stomach, for just a second. Blink, and you would have missed it. At that moment, however, no one was watching, and Martha's secret, remained her secret.

Just like it had for the last year, the year that she and her family had taken to calling, 'The Year That Never Was'. But since she had returned Jack's Vortex Manipulator to him before they'd dropped him off in Cardiff, the stasis field she'd created around her unborn child would dissipate. Not right away, not all in one go. But it would ebb away and then her child would begin to grow. How long it would gestate for, she really had no idea.

Because it wasn't just her baby.

It was hers and the _Doctor's_ baby.

* * *

Martha often wondered if she was committing a terrible act by concealing the existence of her child from its father. She also wondered if she would be able to keep the baby hidden from the Doctor once it was born. Would the child be telepathic? Would it be too human for the Doctor t sense its presence? What kind of range were they talking about here? Could he, for instance, be pottering about in the year 200,500 and feel the birth of her child back in 2009?

To be sure, Martha had a lot of worries. At the same time, she knew that worrying was bad for both her and the baby, so she tried _not _to worry. Which then made her worry, and – well, you get the picture.

She was currently five months pregnant and barely showing. She didn't know what to make of that fact. Did it mean the pregnancy would be more than nine months long? Did it mean the child was underdeveloped and would not be born healthy?

She had no answers.

She knew she would be able to get the answers to these questions if she just called the Doctor, but she, stubbornly some might say, refused to do so.

This would be _her _child; she didn't want to give him the chance to take her baby away from her. Once, she might not have thought him capable of such a thing. But she'd witnessed his casual cruelty first hand, and decided he was not a man her baby needed in its life. She swore to herself that she would protect it from everything, even its father, if necessary.

* * *

Telling her family hadn't been what you'd call easy.

They didn't know it was the Doctor's. They didn't even know that she and the Doctor had ever been intimate. The Doctor himself, acted as though it had never happened. But it had, and now she was living with the consequences.

It had been when they were stuck in 1969. The men in their street had asked him to come to the pub with them for an evening. He had been delighted by the invitation and had taken off without a backward glance.

When he returned home, he had appeared to be severely intoxicated. But then, with the Doctor, one never knew. Never knew what was real, what was obscured and what was utter manipulation. When he'd dropped a few hints about things the other men had said, about how lucky the Doctor was to have such a young and beautiful wife waiting for him at home, she'd largely ignored him. Thought he was telling her just to make her laugh, and maybe he was, at first.

But the flirting hadn't stopped.

And then, that night, in their bed, his advances had become, well, _advances_. She felt as though she'd been set on fire, every touch, every move, every caress only served to further fuel the flames which held her in their grip. She'd never experienced anything like it, before or since, and likely never would again. It was like he'd touched the inner core of her.

The next day, he had acted like he couldn't even remember. She personally thought that the fact that both of them were naked, their limbs tangled and the smell of sex in the room might give it away, but he adamantly declared he had no recollection whatsoever, and from then on, he pretty much ignored her.

She hadn't considered _repercussions_. She'd thought that though their outward physiology was similar, there was no way they could mate and produce young. She'd thought it would be an unviable match on a chromosomal level.

She was wrong. She was hurting, she was tired and she was wrong. Foolish, even. But, as she told herself often, what was done was done. No way out of it.

Her night with the Doctor had been a mere five days before they'd regained the TARDIS. Then they had been off to Cardiff to refuel, and ended up in the year one hundred trillion, and then had been the terrible business with the Master.

It was during her early days on the run that she'd realised she was with child. Jack's Vortex Manipulator had picked up the additional life sign in her body. Unfortunately, it could not tell her how many hearts the child might have. It had taken the better part of three days, hiding in a storm drain, for her to work out how to hold the pregnancy, how to keep it in stasis until she was ready to birth it. And good thing she had too, for she had no idea whether it would even exist now, if it had been born in the year which was erased.

Because the gestation seemed to be moving slower, she had told her family it was the result of a one night stand. They believed she was only three months along at this point. And while her mother had not been pleased, she had understood. What they had been through, what they had seen, not to mention how Martha had walked the Earth for a year, well. Even if she didn't necessarily approve, Francine could understand her daughter wanting to forget for a little while in the arms of a stranger.

* * *

She had arranged with the University to sit her final exams early. It had been hard, and she'd had to go right to the top before she got anywhere, but it had been approved in the end. A few days afterwards, when she'd got a call from UNIT offering her a position there, she began to wonder if UNIT was the reason she'd gotten her way.

She told them about the baby and how she would not be able to work in the field until it had been born, and probably not even afterwards. They had understood and thankfully, they still wanted her to join them. Her knowledge of the Doctor and other extra terrestrials would be extremely useful, they'd said.

So, she'd gone to work behind a desk, for the Unified Intelligence Taskforce, and all the while, she missed the Doctor. Each day, she missed him a little bit more.

But she stood firm.

She would not make that call.

* * *

Time passed, as was its habit, and Martha breathed a great sigh of relief when the last of her morning sickness disappeared. It had carried on well into her eighth month, and had been a sore trial. To her family and her colleagues' eyes, she now looked six months pregnant, and had to cart a large bump around along with the rest of her.

In spite of herself, she couldn't help chuckling sometimes when she looked in the mirror. Given her short stature, she looked like she'd swallowed a beach ball. She was not carrying very much extra weight on her thighs or backside, so really, from behind, you'd have no idea she was pregnant.

Elodie, one of the secretaries in her office, said that this meant she would be having a boy. She said girls usually didn't stick out at the front so much. Elodie, bless her, also had no idea why Martha couldn't stop laughing at her sage and serious advice. She put it down to hormones and then promptly handed over the nearest box of tissues – they were scattered all over the place having been brought in by everyone during Martha's pregnancy – when the laughter turned to tears.

* * *

When she thought of what to do when the time came for her to deliver the baby, Martha was in two minds about whether she should check into the maternity ward or not. What if it was born with two hearts? Would they take her child away and do tests on him? And also, if anyone at work found out her baby was less than human she would be in some serious trouble. Hiding something like this from UNIT just wasn't done. Or so UNIT thought, Martha reckoned she wasn't the only person with a secret in that office.

In her tenth Month, in fact it was at midnight on the very day she began her tenth month, that Martha woke with a scream. Luckily, no one else was in the house. She was living in a home provided by her work, a detached house out in Richmond which was probably worth a fortune.

She sat gasping as she felt some kind of energy spiking in her body. Aghast, she held a hand up to her face and cried as she saw it glowing.

"Oh God, what's happening?" She whispered to herself, her tone anguished and frightened.

Her hand went to her large bump, and noticed that the glow was now all over her body, but was also rippling, like waves in a pond. Suddenly, she threw her arms out either side and her head flung back to stare blindly at the ceiling.

A moment later, everything went black.

* * *

She was woken by a far off voice. _"Mummy..."_ It called. _"Mummy..."_ It insisted. Martha rolled onto her side with a groan, still slightly out of it, before she remembered and then sat up abruptly. Her mind was whizzing at what felt like a hundred miles per second. Beyond, or maybe, above all that though, was this _presence_ in her mind.

It was this same presence which was calling out to her, and judging by the way it was addressing her, she reckoned she knew exactly who it was.

In what had become a rare moment of joviality, Martha mused to herself that at least this meant one of her questions was answered, she would definitely be having a Time Lord baby.

Martha placed her hands on her stomach and sank into her mind, ignoring the outside for a moment, completely focused on the life with in her.

"Hello my darling," she said, letting all the love she felt for her son, for she knew it was a son, flow out of her and into him, telling him, without words, just how much he meant to her.

"Silly Mummy, already knew. Felt it every day." His speech was disjointed, but he was pretty damned precocious considering he'd not even been born yet.

"I know sweetheart, Mummy is silly. Did you make Mummy glow?" She asked and she felt her little boy's liquid laughter bubble up in her.

"Yes! Mummy glowed! Mummy is like me now. Does Mummy have new teeth?" Martha was taken aback, not really understanding the question. New teeth? Why would she have new teeth?

She'd not witnessed a regeneration before, though she knew what they were thanks to Jack and his confrontation with the Doctor. But something in her _had _changed, she knew that much. Ideas had always come quickly to her, but not as quickly as they were now. And, as far as she remembered, she'd not been telepathic before. Arguably, it could be her child who was telepathic, but though her son had called out to her, it was _her _hands on her stomach which joined their minds.

"Son, did I... _regenerate_?" She asked sounding breathless even in her mind.

"Yes, yes, yes! Mummy, I so happy!" He squealed and she laughed in spite of her worry.

"Mummy has to go and check her teeth now my darling," she said and as she closed the link she felt him whisper, "_Bye Mummy_, _see you soon!"_

When she opened her eyes she raised her hands and studied them carefully. They were the same as before, near as she could tell. Her skin was the same colour. She breathed a sigh of relief, she wasn't sure she could handle being white, despite the prejudice she'd suffered under from some people, she was proud of her skin tone and didn't want to lose that connection with her family.

She got out of bed carefully and switched a light on, for it was still fairly dark. Her clock read 5:43am, so she had been out for some time.

_First regenerations are always hard_, her mind told her.

When she got to the mirror, she was not at all sure if she was happy or sad at what she saw.

Curly hair.

That was _it_ – the only difference from her last form to this one – curly hair. Hair which was curly to the point of almost being ringlets, and though it should feel incongruous against the background of her racial features, it didn't. She liked it. She got closer to the mirror and saw that there was one other change, her eyes.

Where they had been a solid, rich brown before, they now sported flecks of gold and lilac. This was something new, something extraordinary for this planet, but something most people were unlikely to notice. Or if they did, she could always tell people they were colour contacts.

Deciding that this was all good, Martha nodded at herself in the mirror and smiled. Then, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw her phone. Her new mobile, a BlackBerry, on which, a red light was flashing. That meant email, SMS or a missed call.

She prayed that it was not the last one. Because she knew, deep down, that somehow, the Doctor _knew_. He just _knew_, and was probably already on his way here.

* * *

**_The Doctor_**

Watching Martha walk out was... well, in some respects, it was easy. Easy, depending on what you wanted to compare it to.

It was easier than admitting, out loud, what a bastard he'd been and persuading her to stay anyway.

Easier than admitting, out loud, what a bastard he'd been, and then admitting he'd done most of it on purpose and persuading her to stay anyway.

Easier than admitting, out loud, what a bastard he'd been, and then admitting he'd done most of it on purpose because he just couldn't bear the idea of falling in love again and persuading her to stay anyway.

It seemed to him that he'd become too used to taking the expedient route, at least where other people's feelings were concerned. No, that wasn't quite true, it was when his own feelings were involved as well as someone else's that he ignored it all and ran for the hills. Sometimes, when Martha had been trying to talk to him about something serious, and he'd changed the subject, spoke over her or outright ignored her, the TARDIS sent him images of himself standing next to her with his fingers in his ears, chanting, '_La, la, la, la, I'm not listening...'_

Pathetic, he told himself. Childish, and cowardly. Giving up his life to save the Earth, the galaxy or the universe, no problem! Just try and stop him!

But showing a woman who awakened things in him he'd long thought he'd stopped being able to feel that she was the most amazing person he'd ever met? Not possible. He would not cross those lines, or break down the barriers he'd built around himself.

Problem was, he'd already crossed the line. No, not crossed it, he'd charged across the border like a rampaging barbarian horde, leaving nothing but dead cattle and burning homesteads in his wake.

He'd slept with Martha, and it had been... well, frankly, it had been _magical_. He'd never thought he'd use that word in that way, but it had been magical. It had been brilliant and well, unforgettable. Except he had forgotten, or so he'd told her. Like the stupid, old fool he knew himself to be at times, he had told her he couldn't remember a thing.

And when she'd looked at him, disbelief and contempt in her eyes, as she flexed her hands on his bare back, and brushed her bare chest against his, challenging him to deny the evidence of their nocturnal activities, with the smell of sex still in the air, the Doctor took what he thought was the expedient route and carried on ignoring it all.

He knew she didn't believe him, but he acted like he didn't care.

He'd crossed a line with Martha that he had never crossed with anyone else. His other female companions were all from a time where women were just not as strong. Oh for sure, they'd been great people and could be strong when they needed to be, but they'd always needed rescuing. They'd always needed his care, his protection. Martha needed none of that. If she seemed lost at times, well that was only ignorance of a universe her people had not gone out to discover yet, and no one could blame her for that.

But when things went wrong, when the world needed saving, Rassilon, when _he _needed saving, more than once too – she'd stepped up to the plate and she'd been brilliant. She was a strong, independent woman who worked hard for what she had.

She was not afraid to question him, to tell him when she thought he was wrong, to call him on his bad behaviour and he –

Well, he'd treated her awfully. He'd destroyed half her life.

Maybe it was because he didn't want to run the risk of getting too close... but he'd been doing a lot of introspection lately, since the death of Astrid Peth, and he'd come to realise that part of him _resented _Martha _because_ she didn't need him like the others had. She could and would survive without him.

And when he'd gone too far for her, when it had become too much, she'd called time, and walked out.

Worse still, he'd let her. He'd not even tried to stop her, he'd not got down on his knees and begged for another chance, for a new start, for her to promise she'd never stop loving him. He'd not done any of those things, and by the Nine Hells, how he wished he had.

* * *

He'd kept in contact with Jack over the last several months, even helped out a couple of times, when the team had gotten in over their heads. He'd dropped into the hub a few times too, when he was feeling lonely. He never stayed long. He told himself it was because he could only stand the _wrong_ feeling he got around Jack for short periods of time. They both knew this was a lie. Sure, he did still get that feeling, and yeah, it was uncomfortable, but not painful or anything like that.

They'd managed a year on the Valiant with no discernable difficulties, though of course, even if there had been problems, they wouldn't have been able to get away from each other. Still, the point remained moot. He could cope.

During his latest trip to Cardiff, the Doctor broached the subject of the person who'd been constantly on his mind ever since she'd left him.

"So, heard from Martha lately? Know if she's alright?" The two of them were in Jack's office, the rest of the hub was dark. It was nearly midnight and sine it was a quiet day all of the others except Ianto, had gone home.

"You have a phone, don't you Doctor? Why don't you ask her yourself?" Jack replied gently and the Doctor flinched slightly.

"Oh, well I thought she and her family would need some space, you know. Put things back together again, and, stuff." He hedged and silently wondered why he bothered trying to hide anything from the other man.

"Uh-huh," Jack said, unconvinced. He took his feet off his desk where they had been resting, and sat up straight. "Well, she got a desk job with UNIT, so –"

"A desk job?" The Doctor interrupted, "But I told them she would be excellent in the field!" Jack eyed him warily, now uncertain as to what he should or shouldn't reveal. Technically, he wouldn't be betraying a confidence. Martha had not told him, and so ipso facto, he had not promised _not _to tell the doctor. Jack had found out from UNIT's personnel files while he'd been checking to make sure they were treating her right, that she had refused a field assignment because she was expecting a baby.

"I'm sure she had her reasons," he began, but when his eyes were caught by the Doctor's, the fight went out of him. "She's having a baby, Doctor. Last I heard she was about eight months along." He said, knowing precisely what the Doctor would make of that.

"Eight months. So, it was after she... well of course it was. I mean, we never, she and I, well. So it couldn't be _mine_. But that means she must have done it... wow." The Doctor wasn't sure why he was shocked, it wasn't like he expected her to – well, to be _faithful_ to him. She wasn't beholden to him in anyway. But all the same, it hurt, and he didn't like it.

He stared at his shoes for a long time, grateful that his friend wasn't pressing him to speak.

He would go and see her, he decided. At least to wish her congratulations – surely she wouldn't begrudge him that? As he straightened, he began to turn towards Jack, intending to wish him goodbye. His hands flew to his head suddenly, as pain shot through his mind.

The pain was originating from that part of his mind which had been empty for so long. The part where the other Time Lords used to be. He screamed, not being able to stop himself. He looked at Jack, desperation and hope in his eyes, he was later told, and then he passed out.

* * *

When he woke later, roughly five hours had passed. He felt very refreshed, apparently he'd been needing some downtime for a while. It took him a moment to remember what he had been feeling before he blacked out, but when he did, he instantly tried to feel for the presence of other Time Lords.

It took several seconds, but yes – there! He could _feel_ them, they were _there, _they were _alive!_ There were two of them. They were not close, but they were definitely in Europe – no, they were definitely in England, no London. Yes, London, they were in London in... Richmond. He knew the exact co-ordinates.

He shot to his feet, intending on sprinting all the way to the TARDIS to enter those co-ordinates and find his people. He did not care who they were, or which ones they were. It did not matter to him anymore. Call it loneliness, call it total devastation, whatever you wanted to call it, it was urging him on, pressing on him, just to – _find us!_

That last thought caused him to lurch unsteadily on his feet. Unfortunately, this made Jack notice that he was awake, and he had to work hard to reassure the other man that he was fine, and that he had to be on his way.

In the privacy of his ship, he indulged in a happy dance, overjoyed that he did not feel alone any more. He also took the time to go over that thought, the one which had come to him from someone else. That 'find us' had come from a child, a Time Lord Child.

The Doctor had a chilling thought. Was it Lucy Saxon? Had the Master bred with her, and produced what? Twins? Unusual for a Time Lord, but not for humans. But then it had to be a mostly Time Lord Child though, or it wouldn't be telepathic. He shook himself from his pondering, he did not need to sit in his ship and go over it again and again in his head – he could go and find the answers for himself. He could go and _see_ for himself.

He punched in the last string of numbers and engaged the engines.

* * *

**_Martha_**

Martha washed and dressed calmly, quietly. She supposed that at one time, she would have felt annoyed that the Doctor was intending just to drop in on her, unannounced. He should be glad that she already knew, she mused, since it meant she could turn off the intruder alarms and inform the UNIT guards outside that he was coming. It was unlikely that they would have attacked him, but she knew how much he hated guns, and thought he would prefer not to have them thrust in his face.

Subtle probing of her guards had told her that they'd not noticed her regeneration. This made her doubt their competence as guards for a moment, before she remembered the perception filter. She'd been wearing her modified key when she went to bed that night. Unusual for her, since she usually kept it tucked away at the back of her knickers drawer. Had her son had realised she would need it and sent her the prompt to put it on? No way to tell really, without asking him, but she knew he was currently asleep and really didn't see the need to wake him over something so trivial.

After all, it wasn't like she actually needed the guards any more, or even at all. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

When her preparations were complete, Martha made herself a hot drink, lit the fire in the living room, put a blanket on her lap and waited. One hand was rubbing her stomach gently; she was the picture of serenity.

She felt the TARDIS before she heard it, and she heard it before she saw it. It materialised in a hollow between one of the walls of the roughly open plan living room and hallway. It was blocking the door to the cupboard under the stairs, but Martha didn't much care. Who would?

Still, she waited patiently for him to emerge. She wondered what he would make of it all. Would he be angry or happy? Would he rain down recriminations on her for keeping their son secret for so long? She didn't know. If he wanted to shout, she would listen. But she would not apologise for what she had done.

If her actions hurt him, made him unhappy, well yes, she would be sorry for that, and say so, freely. But she had made her choice based on the opinion that she would likely have a human baby, a baby who would have a short life, just like her. Far better that such a child not be exposed to the world the Doctor lived in.

Of course, that was not how it had turned out. And she knew now that she could not keep him away from either of them. The three of them were all that was left of Gallifrey, no matter what happened, they belonged with each other, and to each other.

The door of the TARDIS opened and he stepped out, looking this way and that with eager eyes. She smiled fondly at those eyes. The eyes which belonged to he who had been her entire world for a long time.

She gently drew his attention, "Hello Doctor."

* * *

**_The Doctor_**

When he looked at her, he knew.

Just like when he had seen the Master on television, and had known then. Time Lords always knew each other. He might have wanted to deny it, to ignore what every sense in his body was telling him. Might have. But he didn't, oh, he didn't. He wanted to embrace it, embrace _her._

Martha was a Time Lord. He did not know how she had become one, and could not care less either. Here was everything he'd ever wanted, all in one person. Martha had already taken her place in his heart and mind as the most special person he'd been privileged enough to meet, but now, she had done the impossible. She had become a Time Lord.

Even as he rushed towards her to sweep her up into his arms, his mind was processing this new data. The reading had said _two_, two Time Lords. So where was the second? His eyes darted left and right, but he could not see anyone else, the house was dark.

As he reached Martha, he sank to his knees and looked up at her. He placed one shaking had on her cheek and the other on her clasped hands. He felt their minds join with a rush, and watched the events of five hours ago.

* * *

For the first time in what felt like forever, the Doctor was flabbergasted.

He was simply lost for words, he was astonished, confounded, he was - well, not lost for words then, but certainly so shocked that he could not speak. He had heard of such a phenomenon before, but in legend only. It was said that when his species was on the verge of extinction_, 'drastic measures can be taken'_.

Considering the contempt his people could have for so-called lesser species, mating with one could be considered a drastic measure. He was never really completely sure what was expected to be the result of a Time Lord mating with a different species. He knew that halflings had been frowned upon, and in the view of his people, producing a clutch of haflings would not be seen as saving their race from oblivion.

Could the genetics of the embryo be doctored, for lack of a better term, until the child was one hundred percent Time Lord? But how would that be possible, with half the required genetic material, material which was essential to the process, coming from the other parent? Or maybe, a metamorphosis occurred? Child and parent went under their transformation simultaneously, both becoming Time Lords. Clearly, that was what had happened here.

Hells, if only he'd known before now, he could have - or could he? Would he? He had no way to know for sure. He'd never let himself get close enough to anyone before Martha. If she hadn't blown into his life, like a miniature whirlwind, he would probably have never, ever known. This was just another wonderful thing she had achieved, the latest in a long line.

He had closed the direct link with her after viewing her memories, and had simply been looking into her eyes while he contemplated their new situation. He felt a little bad for what was essentially barging his way into her mind and looking at whatever he wanted. But even as the guilt rose in him, she rolled her eyes at him and smiled.

"I could have kept you out, you know. If I had wanted to." She told him and he cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh really, so why did you let me look then, unhindered?"

"Because it was the most efficient way of telling you everything you need to know, and to be frank - well, there aren't words for some of the things I've experienced. I figured you would look and then work it out. Have you?"

He nodded absently, and told her about the legends. "Interesting," Martha began, "I can see why it didn't occur to you that this might happen. It's not exactly an historical record or an accepted fact is it? I suppose it's that Time Lord prejudice against mating with anyone but our own." She sighed, looking away for a moment, before turning back to him. She was grinning, and patted the sofa next to her. "Come here!" She demanded and he happily complied.

"What is it?" He asked, bemused by her sudden excitement. She'd been so calm when he'd first arrived.

"Give me your hand, and... there, there, do you feel?" She asked eagerly, placing his hand on the swell of her abdomen which had been hidden from view up until now. He gasped as he felt movement under his hand. He placed his other alongside it, and laughed with utter joy as he felt a kick against his hands.

"He knows his Daddy," Martha said and the Doctor felt awed. This was so overwhelming. In all his excitement about her transformation and the reasons behind it, he'd not stopped to take stock of the situation. A baby! His, no, _their _baby was growing inside Martha. He could feel it as it kicked his hands, as it rolled around, almost as if he knew that his Daddy was there, just like Martha said.

"Is he, has he spoken to you?" He asked, breathless, but not caring in the slightest.

"Yes, he was the one who told me I'd regenerated. He called me Silly Mummy and then asked me if I had new teeth." She told him and he chuckled. His hands were still firmly attached to her swollen belly, and he couldn't help the smile which felt like it was going to split his face.

An impulsive thought struck him, and he removed one of his hands which he then used to pull Martha's face closer to him. His eyes were fixed on her lips, but flicked briefly to hers asking for permission. Having received it, he pressed his lips to hers, and stopped thinking. He just lived in this moment, loving the wonder and simplicity of it.

* * *

**_Martha_**

Later, as they sat side by side on her sofa, the sun rising slowly outside, Martha laughed as the Doctor got so excited by his new son, he could barely contain himself. Currently he was stroking her stomach and chanting, "Daddy-is-rubbing-Mummy's-belly-I-said-oh-Daddy-is-rubbing-Mummy's-belly..."

He'd been doing that for a little while, but hadn't stopped because both of them could sense their baby boy could hear them, and was loving it. His melodious laughter rang in their minds.

After he had calmed down some, Martha got him focused on the task of making preparations for the birth of their child. They instantly agreed that he would be born on the TARDIS since it was the only place capable of offering help if there were any complications. The Doctor said that complications were unlikely since she and their son were so healthy, but he faithfully promised to ensure the Med Bay was fully stocked, just in case. They agreed it was better to prepare for the worst, and then be pleasantly surprised when it didn't happen, than to just assume and have everything go tits-up.

They also got on to the subject of names. He explained how the names of Gallifreyan children were usually only known to their parents, and that when the children joined the Academy, they usually chose new names or titles for themselves. Just like he and the Master had done. She was glad for his explanation, since though she knew some things instinctively, like how she had known that it was normal for her first regeneration to be rocky, but facts about culture and tradition she just didn't have.

They agreed that they would name the child in the normal way, and allow their son to take on a new name if he wanted to. They would begin training him when he was eight, though they would do it themselves since there was no Academy for him to go to. The Doctor had idly wondered aloud what life would be like for her and their child, both of them Time Lords, both untouched by the Un-tempered Schism.

Martha told him she was looking forward to finding out.

* * *

**_A/N: Well, that's it for this story as it's currently a one shot. If there's enough demand I may continue it or write a sequel, but if not it will stand on its own as-is. Thanks for reading!_**


End file.
